May you Bloom
by Bolinlover123
Summary: Moments in Asami Sato's life before and after the betrayal, as she contemplates that loving her dad is ultimately the right thing to do, despite everything, and what he mother would have wanted. And finally, though the comfort of her friends, working up the nerve to have the inevitable meeting in jail with her father. "Yes," she tells him, eyes never wavering, "I still love you."
1. Chapter 1

She knows what a father is. Or what ones are supposed to be like, rather.

At least, she thinks she does.

Images of a younger her, accompanied by a man she thought she knew flood through her as she gazes up at her polished ceiling with the slanted walls, and flowery designs.

Her mother carved those designs herself when she had wanted a_ big girl room, please, please, please, Mommy, I'm six now!_ _Make flowers grow in my room like you do outside!_

Her mother loved flowers and gardening, she remembers. Almost as much as Earthbenders.

_"These peopl_e,_ these benders...They took away your mother, the love of my life. They've ruined the world. But with Amon, we can fix it and build a perfect world, together. We can help people like us everywhere_!"

She feels like a flower now. Given nurture and love and care to grow up and up and _up_...but someone comes around and clips her away to the roots.

She has too many thorns.

She was never meant to be a rose anyway.

Her bed is much too small in a much too empty and lonely mansion, now occupied by one. She finnaly takes in the freedom she's awaited all her life to enjoy-without the butler and the maids one step behind her, without the press smothering her- and finds that the price of freedom is far too costly.

She wonders if her father ever loved her at all, or if it was all a lie.

For not the first time, she wishes she were a bender; a firebender like her great-grandfather on her mother's side, she found out from reading one of the many historical Sato Family books that litter the library- and tries to imagine her father sympathizing with her and benders, and loving her and going against Amon like her heart yearns him to.

_"I love you, dad."_

She wants to believe she still does, but she's not really sure. Maybe she's just desperate. Maybe she just wants to be loved.

She wants to believe that loving someone who you have all the right in the world to hate makes you stronger and the better person, but maybe that just makes her weak and a desperate little girl.

She wishes someone would tell her what to feel so she can just stop, and pick a feeling and stick with it.

She wants to stop. Stop with everything.

She wants to pretend that she didn't purposely plunge herself into the bottom of the pool last night, holding onto the railing underwater to prevent herself from getting air, and waiting, _waiting_, for her dad to come in and rescue her. Images of her friends, _Mako, Korra, Bolin,_ forcing her up and out again after too long, painful gasps of air, water in her throat, tears in her eyes, and she had called each of their names, but no one came.

She hates this _quiet; _it reminds her of the silent, empty days after the break in, after mom's funeral, when the office was all burnt and ransacked and smelt like death. When dad stayed away from the office that still whispered of evil laughter and her mother's screams and burnt flesh, and he only spoke to her though painful eyes and masked glances and quivering lips, locking himself away in his bedroom for hours. They were both silent for far too long.

In the end, she stares up at her ceiling and concludes that she will love her father, because it is what her mother would have wanted her to do.

Her hand blindly searches for her mother's lilac-scented perfume bottle on her nightstand, drags her fingers along other trivial items like her hair brush and her lipstick and her face-cream, and sends them crashing to the ground, staining her rug like blood. When her fingers lock desperately around the familiar out-line of the smooth- edged, oval bottle that never lacks warmth, she draws the bottle close her chest and _squeezes._

Once.

Twice.

Lilacs swim around the room.

She inhales, the smell filling her nostrils, blooming inside her. Maybe she can be a flower now.

It's almost like mommy's there with her.

Yes, for mommy, she can try to be a flower again, and grow with her friends that will water her.

She closes her eyes, and inhales.


	2. Chapter 2

Another swipe of the ink glided atop smoothed-over parchment paper, and a slight crinkle as the sheet gets deftly placed atop the seemingly never-ending stack, deems her work done for the day. A sigh escapes her and whispers through the empty office of the Future Industries Factory; the bitter smell of oil and paint from the endless line of cars that wafts up like the wind, always used to soothe her, and now she can't help but associate that smell with loss.

Yet, she knows who she is.

She will turn this loss, this empty, forgotten dream of Future Industies, into pride and self-earned worth. She will redeem the Sato name, and she will _blossom._

She is _Asami Sato_, an independent young women; she is not helpless, not _"Daddy's little girl."_

She knows what it's like to be judged at face value. Envious glances saying, _"snobby rich," _and, "_get's anything she wants because her father is the wealthiest man in the city,"_and, "_has so many guys swooning over her...just look at her go on her moped. Ms. Asami Sato. Must be great to be her."_

The rich and the underbelly alike all whisper different things that all have the same meaning.

She hears, she knows, she understands.

But they're wrong. All wrong. She'll never stoop to the level they think she is.

She knows who she is.

Yet, she is the one who envies _them. _She rather be dirt poor if it meant she could remember what having a mother was like. If, when her father and anyone who knew her mother, says she looks just her, Asami could look at herself in the mirror and see the women who gave birth to her smiling back like they all say they see. See the reflection of the women who loved her for the first six years of her life until the moment she died; the women who looked at her straight in the eyes and told her to run when the Agni Kai member started threatening them with blazes of sparks if they didn't give him all their jewelry, yet no fear shone on her face.

_"Always know who you are, Asami. No one can tell you who you are, but yourself. Money doesn't buy happiness, no matter how fortunate we are. It is through hard work and sacrifice that one is happy."_

That is who people say she resembles. That is who people say she acts like.

A ghost, gone like the lick of a flame that dissolves into air as it floats up. Strong at the beginning, until if fades away with time. Just like memory.

They say she is just like that women. That is who she tries to be with all that she is.

But really, she is just acting like herself. Because she knows who she is.

She is the girl who took private self-defense classes at age eight- all paid by her doting father- and got a black belt a year later. Having fought multiple matches, and winning gleaming metals that shine in her bedroom, hanging on walls, all for _her._

She is the girl who got her driver's license at age sixteen, and built her very own moped from scratch, spray-painting it down to the last streak; driving so fast down roads, just to feel freedom, just to feel rebellious and alive, out of the clutches of the closely watched and pampered life that fights to contain and limit her. Yet, she will not be tamed.

She drives fast and fierce; so caught up in the moment, driving right into fate that wore a red scarf like a warning flag.

She is the girl who dated a firebender, having a fear of fire. Because she knows what it's like to be judged, and she understands what it means to see a person for who they are, not what their element and past ancestors condemn them as. Many people- including her very critical father- all see firebenders still as the enemy, even though very few individuals are still alive who have lived through the War.

She is Fire Nation, yet no one is afraid of her or hates her just because she was or wasn't born with an ability. It is what you do with your bending that makes you who you are- your element does not define you.

_"Your heart defines you, sweetie. You can be a pretty flower on the outside, but contaminate all the others around you in the garden."_

_"Like that time you tried to plant tomatoes, and one looked yucky, but the others were good, but then a few days later, they all got yucky and brown?"_

_A laugh and a hair ruffle,_ _"Something like that._"

And that is exactly what she is going to say at the speech she will give upon the reopening of Future Industries, when all are welcome to come in and work, and she will not be the only one walking its abandoned halls. And being a non-bender, she hopes her thoughts are pretty insightful.

She is the head of Future Industies, owner and manufacture of the Satomobile.

She is the one of Team Avatar; has helped take down Amon and save the city with her friends...

She is the girl who had a father, yet never knew him, because secret hatred and betrayal were more important than family and love...

She doesn't know who she is anymore...

She is so, so lost...

She's never felt so hopeless and used.

She's always been so sure.

No one could tell her "_no"._

Anything was possible. She was blooming so high...

Yet now, it was impossible for her to just think of the man who had raised her and destroyed her, without doubting everything she is and ever was.

When people ask her if she still loves her father, her mind wants to say "_no_" but her heart will always be unsure; wavering between the need for love and the painful hatred of the lies and the almost fetal blow the mecca-tank nearly gave her.

"_'It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive,' Asami, sweetie. Always remember that. A very great Avatar once said that."_

"_Okay, Mommy! I promise!"_

Because he had said she looks just like her.

But when she looks at him, she doesn't see him anymore. Just sees a monster.

Yet he is her father.

But she knows who she is.

She is Asami Sato.

And she may be a bit broken, but she won't let them stop her.

She is the girl who dared to do what was right, and she won't back down; even when the world is showing her all this wrong, trying to tempt her onto the side of hate and spite, she won't let the _seed of doubt _win.

No, she knows her morals, her friends and where she belongs.

It will take more than all this pain to wither her down.

_"All it needs is a little_ _water, then it's as good as new."_

_"But, mommy, why not give Rosy _all_ the water? She's thirsty!"_

_"Because, sometimes, too much of what you want, can be a bad thing. Sometimes, suffering makes us stronger. Like the flowers; you give them just enough of what they need, and let them learn on their own how to grow. Rosy will grow big and strong in no time."_

_"...Like me?"_

_Shining eyes and a smile turn her way,"You already are big and strong, my little sunflower."_

She is strong and independent.

She will not be moved.

Her heels click across the stone floor as she makes her way to the front door, yearning to get home. She is abruptly stopped by a murmuring crowd of people, all clad in cameras slugged across their necks, and pencils and writing pads at the ready.

She's used to her father complaining about the crowds, but she's never had one.

Now's a the time as good as any to make a difference.

She feels the shock wear off, and the moment she closes the door, hands shoot up in the air, begging to be picked on.

She tires not to show her flustered nerves; voices all yelling, _me, me, me, Ms. Sato,_ _pick me, no me, Ms. Sato, I have questions!_

Her eyes dart frantically through the crowd, voices raising, hands pulling up and up, people shoving to the front.

For a moment, she wonders if this is what Korra has to deal with.

She takes a deep breath, and tries to settle them down like she's seen Cheif Bei Fong do.

"Everyone, please settle down! I'll answer all of your questions! I just-"

A man comes up to her, pencil pointed at the ready, poised to pounce with juicy details;

"Ms. Sato, "he asks, pushing his glasses back up on his face, "Why is Future Industries so important to you? It would seem as though you would want nothing more to do with a corrupt company your traitorous father had engineered, now on the brig of bankruptcy Why is it worth the fight? Are you still in contact with your father? What are your plans to-"

"I know who I am." the words come out of her mouth before she realizes, startling even herself slightly, but she doesn't regret it.

She man blinks, obviously flustered with her answer.

"But that's not-"

"I know who I am. And what I want." is all she says. "Take from that what you will."

"Y-yes. Very well." The man licks his lips, seeming lost as to where this will lead. "But that's not-"

And she turns on her heels, in a huff. She flicks her hair and hears dozens of people call after her, question after question.

She doesn't need to answer them. She isn't some latest story that they can poke and prob and get juicy details out of for money.

This is her life and she doesn't own them anything.

"_But_,_ Ms. Sato, ma'am,_" a woman's voice, "We need to know about the plans for the company! What exactly will you be discussing upon the reopening next week in your speech?! This is something the public needs to be aware of, for a company such as yours with such significance! We need-"

The voices drown out as she turns a corner into the lot where her moped is parked.

She'll show them, she thinks. They'll all know eventually.

And because she knows she's not alone anymore, she heads straight for Air Temple Island, murmurs of voices fading away.

She knows who she is.


	3. Chapter 3

_Slight Bolsami :_)

* * *

She doesn't know who, or what she's looking for, or frankly, what she's expecting to find, when her footsteps take her to the Air Temple Island one evening.

She wants someone to talk to, or maybe, just to listen to anything that can take her mind off of her own troubles.

Maybe help Pema take care of the kids, help her cook, or something...

Whatever. She doesn't really care.

What she finds is Bolin, splayed out on his back in the grass under one of the many abundant trees, nearly fading into the earth beneath him. To a passerby, he would seem asleep, but she can clearly see his green eyes uncharacteristically boring wholes into the leaves above him, an unnatural grim frown on his face that she knows is out of place. Has she even see him by himself before, she wonders. Her friend sensors kick in.

Walking over, she sits down beside him without a word, taking care not to crush the dandelions that take home in the fuzz of grass by the tree's roots.

The wind rolls by across the courtyard, as if the great Avatar Aang himself were making his love known and caressing them in comfort. She sighs, breathing in the quiet and glancing at her friend; his face still and distant, and her brows furrow in concern. For the billionth time in her life, she wishes she had a younger sibling.

She rips up a few blades of grass, and lets them fall on his face.

"You look happy." she states sarcastically, as his nose scrunches up, face twisting, and the grass falls from his cheeks with a pout, "Is this some new kind of meditation exercise, because I'm pretty sure you're doing it wrong."

His eyes flick to her now, and his lips curl up slightly, "Hey, Asami," he says quietly, "Sorry, had a bad day. Was just thinking."

She tries to be the cheerful one for once, because Bolin of all people deserves it, and she's tired of being bitter, "Careful, don't think too hard or your face will stay like that. What would your fans say?"

He swats her arm playfully, "Very funny, Sato. I'll have you know my face is a 'Bolin Original'; nothing can hurt its awesomeness."

"That's more like it." she smiles, with a chuckle. Then, "Bad day, huh? Not like you to be all by yourself. Wanna talk about it?"

He seems to consider for a moment, but as she was expecting, waves it off, "Thanks for asking, but, no, not really."

"Okay, if you're sure." is all she says, not pressuring him, because she knows that sometimes it's best just to handle things yourself and not force things out, besides, he has Mako to talk to.

"So, lovely lady," he sits up and their shoulders touch against the tree trunk, "what brings you hear this fine evening?"

"Don't really know." she muses, eyes locked on the ground, her fingers absent-mindedly plucking strips of grassy fuzz from the ground like roots, manicured nails turning green because, _you see, Asami, we have to take away the old roots so new flowers can grow. When one life ends, another begins._

"If...if I ask you something that doesn't really make sense...," she mumbles and his eyes lock on her, intent and sincere, "would you think I'm crazy?"

"No." is his instant replay, "I'd say you're human. And that you're one of the only friends I've ever had, so tell me anything and everything you need."

Her heart quickens, she wasn't expecting that anser. But then again, Bolin was many things, earnest and open being palpable, "Do...do you ever really feel like you _need_ to say something? I-I mean...or feel like you just need to scream, but you don't know how and can't find the words? And even if you could, no one would listen to you?"

She dares a glance at him, and she finds he is looking away from her now, eyes half lidded and flickering with a distant sadness.

She realizes in that silent sadness, that Bolin knows and understands and feels a lot more than he lets on; he just chooses not to express his pain like most people.

It is then that she hears the loudest silence in her life.

"Yes." he says in a quiet voice, turning back to her, "I really do."

The leaves fly by, as seconds roll with words yet to be shared.

Her heartbeat flutters in her chest as she realizes Bolin is the one that was always ready and willing to listen, but never asks for it in return. That he would let her scream in his ears until he was deaf and not get the slightest bit annoyed.

"I don't know whether to love or hate him." she whispers, fists baling in her lap.

"Asami..."

"-And _don't_ tell me 'I should', or 'I shouldn't because he's my dad'. I've heard enough of that from the press! _I know he's my dad,_" she exclaims, throughing her hand in the air, "_But sometimes I wish he wasn't!_ Sometimes, I wish he had died instead of my mom." her eyes are clamped shut, and she can feel her throat burn.

"_Asami_." A warm hand on her shoulder makes her look up, and she finds that her eyes are wet.

"Go on." she spits, "Tell me that that makes me a horrible person."

He shakes his head, "No, it doesn't; again, that makes you normal, and_ human_. That makes you hurt and lost and angry- all of which you have _total_ right to be.

"In the end, it's your choice. No one can blame you for your feelings." his eyes look straight into her's, "'Hate' and 'love' are very powerful. You can feel one or the other, and sometimes, you're going to feel both at the same time and there is _nothing_ wrong with that. Don't let anyone ever tell you what to feel, or that you picked the wrong choice to go against him, because you made the _right_ one. You are one of the strongest, most beautiful people I have ever met, Asami, and I'm honored to be your friend. You can come to me any time, even in the middle of the night and whack me silly till I'm awake, and I'll be there for you to listen to whatever you need to talk about, not matter what it is, okay? You're not alone. The three of us are here for you."

Her mouth drops open, eyes blinking. She really is at a loss of words now, "T-thank you, Bolin..." she mutters, wiping her eyes, "You're my good friend, too."

He rubs her shoulder, and smiles, "Anytime."

She sniffles, and sighs and finally smiles back. The fading sun casts a yellow and purple glow, spreading its warmth on them for the last moments, the dimming rays of light dancing off the leaves.

"Hey." she says.

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired of feeling down." she stands and reaches her hand out to him, "Let's go get some friendship dumplings."

He blinks, then grins once more and grasps her hand. The happy, enthusiastic boy she knows, is back, "Alright! I know the best ones ever! They're filled with meat and shrimp and extra crispy! One time, Mako and I..."

And she fallows next to him, he tugging her along as he vehemently explains the story of the first time he ever tried The Greatest Dumplings in the World when Mako had snatched a few when he was twelve.

She feels lighter than she's had in a long time.

She knows she's made the right choice, and for now, she can be with her friends, because she's not alone.

For the first time, she realizes that family doesn't have to be blood related.

Today, she feels like a garden.


	4. Chapter 4

The sharp echo of her heels clicking against the newly polished floor brings her small comfort as the passive-faced, silent officer leads her down the labyrinth of halls that occupy the Police Department. Her reflection shining back up at her through the waxy tiles shows determined eyes, yet the curve of her mouth, and the slight shaking of her hands proves otherwise. She stuffs her bitten-nailed fingers back in her pocket, hands fisting around the possession tucked inside to make sure it's still warm.

She gazes left and right at the rectangles of rusting doors that line the walls; each square, three-barred window passing behind her with an unfamiliar, sullen, grim face hiding beneath its shadows.

The Officer finally halts in front of a tightly locked cell, and she draws a shaky breath.

With a pull of the latch, the bolt unhooks, and the door grinds open with a high- pitched squelch that can only be from the excess metal layers due to extra precaution.

She frowns at this, for how can he be any physical threat when shut up all the way down here? Their unnecessary paranoia unnerves her.

"You have five minutes, Ms. Sato." the man gruffs, "Use it wisely." He fixes his eyes just towered her right; his gaze looking towered her direction seemingly making 'following orders' just that much harder. She locks her eyes with his, daring, and he flicks his away, jaw set.

He nods stiffly, "Very well. Good luck." and spins on his heels.

She listens as his footsteps fade just outside the hall where she knows he is waiting, and she approaches the bars tentatively.

The silhouette is slumped against a chair in the corner, his familiar frame looking thinner than she remembered, yet she recalls his flickering gold eyes narrowed in hatred when secured inside the Meca Tank. She doesn't recognize them now.

"...Hello, Dad."

_"Asami..."_


End file.
